


I'm gonna make this place your home

by Kaghani



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaghani/pseuds/Kaghani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth and Percy discover that they are unable to have a child. But destiny works in strange ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm gonna make this place your home

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I'm just a fool who wrote about 2000 words about that Magnus Chase, Gods of Asgard reveal. Curse you, Rick Riordan, look what you've done to me.
> 
> Also -- not a medicine person. I tried my best at mayo clinic and web md but there could be some very real errors with the specific condition I described here lmao

It’s not something Annabeth thought she’d be so heartbroken over. But, gods, does her heart ever break almost every single day after that afternoon in the clinic, when she’d found out about her ovulation disorder due to hypothalamic dysfunction – ever since she found out that she and Percy could never conceive a child.

Annabeth doesn’t rage or cry profusely or anything at first. It’s just…shock. She’s twenty-five. She’s got some time ahead of her, by some stroke of luck that demigods are not always blessed with. She’s got ambitions for things bigger then herself. She’s made a family out of her closest friends. She’s got _Percy_.

She’s infertile. She’s infertile, and they’ll never have a baby.

Children…Annabeth has never seriously given thought to children before (besides “Percy wants them”), but now that that entire avenue has been shut down, she spends a lot of time thinking about _what ifs_. And not desperate, devastated thinking; it just feels like one path her life could have taken just crumbled away, and Annabeth sort of convinces herself that there is a way to compartmentalize this the same way she would an inconvenience at a construction site, like a lost shipment of two-by-fours.

The one clear, immediate outcome of this is that the immature little corner of Annabeth’s mind, that tiny part of her that hasn’t fully recovered from repeated rejection and loneliness as a child, gets nervous and insecure about _Percy_ , and how his dream of “a house with miniature Annabeths running around”—as he’d once deliriously confessed – can no longer come to fruition. Percy Jackson doesn’t ask for many things from life besides peace and quiet and contentment, and nearly everyone agrees that both of them certainly deserve peace and quiet and contentment.

Thinking about _that_ has her feeling a little inadequate and stupidly guilty.

But if Percy, bless his stars, is disappointed at all, he _never_ lets it show. In fact, when he finally corners Annabeth in the bathroom one morning, after weeks of her standoff-ish behavior and frequent “migraines” that she excuses herself for to go stand outside alone, he cuts straight to the chase:

“Hey,” he says, holding her face and staring into her eyes, “I’ve been trying to give you some space, but it’s not fair that this affected you so much. I don’t want to assume anything about how you’re feeling. I just know that whatever it is, I’m always here for you. You and me, we’ll get through this. We'll get through anything together. I promise.”

And that’s when she breaks down and cries: for that future that will never be, and because of that inevitable, overwhelming flood of emotions that swells up in her chest each time Percy reminds her how much he loves her. Miniature Annabeths or no miniature Annabeths.

She calls in sick that day, and her boss is only too understanding. In the three years Annabeth’s been with this firm, she’s taken two sick days – one for that day at the gynecologist, and one for her and Percy’s freak stomach virus one random May week. (They still suspect Hera and her bag of mythological mayhem tricks.) They cuddle in bed and watch The Hobbit, which has them thinking about _adventures_.

They have each other, despite the gods, their uncertain lives, and _Tartarus_ , and they’re still both young and very committed and excited about sharing a life together. They deserve to enjoy themselves, to go on adventures. With or without miniature Annabeths.

The next thing they know, they’re planning out a road trip for Spring Break. Well – Annabeth is doing the planning, and Percy’s eyes sparkle like emeralds: “We should go here! And there!”

* * *

 

The trip is as fantastic and well-planned as Annabeth intended. Well-planned means she planned for Percy’s spontaneity, of course. She’s known him too long.

It also helps her take her mind off the whole infertility situation. As much as she'd like to definitely sort her feelings out, she needs a break from _so much thinking_. 

They spend two days in Washington, DC. She admires the buildings and he eats everything from every stall and every museum’s cafeteria.

Their next stop is Charleston, and this time, they go as tourists.

Their Fort Sumter tour guide’s jokes are insufferable, and Percy in jeans and a light blue button-up shirt would be the most delicious thing Annabeth had seen—if she hadn’t seen Percy in nothing. Annabeth grabs his hand and pulls him into the room she’d once fled all those years ago. (She’s not trying to be weird or nasty or whatever. It’s another place that’s so far behind her, these days. Besides, she’s way too horny to think about the _exact room_ , for Zeus’ sake.)

But as soon as they stumble through the doorway and scramble to try and be the first one to pin the other to a surface, there’s a “hey!” echoing through the room.

As quickly as they’d darted away from the group seconds ago, Percy and Annabeth draw their weapons and back towards the exit. But as Annabeth’s focus settles on the little shape huddled in the far corner, she does the strangest thing; she lowers her knife.

“Hello?” She can make out two brown eyes, now, in the dim glow of Riptide. She can feel Percy tensing up, like she’s doing something way out of his expectations. She’s doing something way out of her _own_ expectations. She didn’t know her voice could manage such tenderness. “Are you – hey!”

It isn’t like Annabeth to lose her guard like that, but thankfully, Percy yanks her out of the way in time for a sparkly hammer to slam into the door behind her instead of her skull. She feels stupid, definitely, but more…betrayed, sort of. And shocked.

Percy hisses her name and makes a gesture like “what the hell, did I miss something?” before turning back to the thing in the corner.

“You got anymore sparkly baby rattles? Because that’s new kinds of pathetic, even for monsters.” Percy says, warily, holding Annabeth’s hand tightly. Annabeth picks up the hammer and she’s immediately shocked by how heavy it is. It must be at least fifteen pounds. In her grip, it glows an obnoxious, fluorescent-light kind of bright. “Don’t try anything funny.”

“ _What_ are you _saying_?” It’s an indignant, whiny voice with a Southern drawl. It’s actually a quite charming.

And – goodness – her eyes start to adjust to the dark, and could that be a little _boy_?

“”Percy…does this seem heavy to you?” She hands Percy the hammer, and he is unprepared. He yelps as his arm jerks down from the weight of the hammer.

She uses Percy’s momentary distraction to step closer to the boy, this time, in a half stance, just in case he had another fifteen pound chunk of metal he was planning to chuck at her.

But she does get a better look at his condition – he’s wrapped in a light blue blanket and surrounded by an assortment of juice boxes and unhealthy snacks. His afro has grown out a little, and she does not want to know whether or not that is a bug or dust bunny stuck to his locks.

She peers at him enough to lock eyes with him this time, and Annabeth immediately knows why she’d hesitated to defend herself against him. She knows that face, that expression…it’s herself. At seven-years-old, when she’d run from home. And she could recognize hurt and anger and abandonment in any other human, ever since. The way this boy’s dark, thick eyebrows scrunch up together is a little too harsh for his age.

Annabeth immediately wants to go and hug the boy. She wants to tell him that she cares about him, and wants to ask him what he likes to eat and do for fun. She wants to teach him everything she knows, and she has a brief fantasy about him and Percy laughing and running through the surf at a beach while she sits in the sand and yells at them to be careful.

She realizes she’d been zoning out and ignoring Percy when he tugs at her arm.

“What?” she asks, looking away from the boy for a second.

“I said, do you think he’s a half-blood? Maybe Hephaestus’s?”

“I don’t know, but he’s—“

“I can hear you. Ya’ll can say that to me. And you better stay there –”

“Hi, my name is Annabeth Chase, and this is Percy,” she says, crouching down. “Look, I’m not armed. I want to help you.”

“I ain’t going back to my dad or my momma!”

Annabeth takes a deep breath, and looks up at Percy. He’s watching her with a guarded expression, and does she dare to hope that he's thinking about his dream of raising a family? She offers him her hand, and Percy takes it and crouches next to her. 

“I’m not going to make you go somewhere you don’t want," she tells the boy, "but if you want to come with us we can help you sort things out. We’ll get you some food and some new clothes, and…maybe a shower?” He scrunches up his face, and she finds herself tripping over her own words. “Oh, ok…no, how about some ice-cream?”

“I am lactose intolerant.” He enunciates every syllable adorably.

“Oh.” She exhales sharply and looks at Percy for help, and his expression is a combo of confusion and amusement and sympathy. She realizes that she's never been this nervous before, Percy's never seen her this nervous before.

Luckily, Percy is magic with kids. He sits down on the ground and sprawls himself out like it’s their bedroom. Annabeth follows suit.

The boy stares at the two of them warily from his blanket. He must be under ten-years-old and scared out of his mind - and how long has he been in this room, in the dark, breathing this musty air?

“This is a cool hammer, kid,” Percy says, casually examining it. “Did you get it from a Thor costume?”

“I got it from Thor.”

Annabeth smiles. He is too cute.

“From Thor!” Percy exclaims. He holds out his hand and collects some juice from nearby Juicy Juice boxes with his hydrokinetic powers. The boy's jaw drops, and Annabeth feels her cheeks ache from smiling so widely. “See this? I got this from Aquaman.”

Annabeth snorts and Percy elbows her. “She’s just jealous of my skills,” he says to the boy, conspiratorially.

“Oh, you wish. Everybody knows who’d win in a fight.”

“Yeah, the guy that can do this!” Percy makes the juice swirl around like a little whirlpool. The boy’s eyes look like he’s got stars in them.

“Whoaaaa!” He exclaims. They all watch the little hurricane pick up little scraps of dirt and food.

“Can you tell us about yourself?” Annabeth says softly, after a few moments.

He loses some of the sparkle in his eyes, but he’s definitely warmed up a little to them. (Bless Percy Jackson.)

“What you wanna know?”

“Where are you from? Can I take you somewhere?”

“I already told you, I ain’t going back to my momma and my dad is mean.”

“Ok, that’s ok! Tell us something else, like…did you run into monsters on the way here?”

He looks from Annabeth to Percy, to Annabeth again. “There was a big ol’ dog but I got him with my hammer. I can’t shock him like my daddy can.”

“Is your dad Zeus?” Percy’s eyes bug out of his head.

“No.” There’s a tense silence for a few moments.

“A big guy wearing a suit, blue eyes, real bossy…?”

“My dad does not wear a suit.” The boy looks at his blanket, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk more about his dad.

Annabeth and Percy look at each other. They send a silent message through that glance: we have to get this little boy to camp.

“Look,” Percy says, “here’s a secret. I get my powers from my dad. He’s Poseidon, god of the sea. This is Annabeth. Her mother is Athena. Athena’s main powers are wisdom and strategy, and giving people really mean looks.”

Annabeth shoves at his shoulder.

“We think your dad is a Greek god.”

“My dad is a god, but he ain’t Greek.”

Percy and Annabeth exchange looks again. “Who, then, is it Jupiter?”

“No.” He sticks out his hand, eyeing the hammer.

“You gonna try and brain us again?” Percy asks, even though he’s already given the hammer back.

“You guys can take me somewhere my daddy won’t know?” He says, standing up. He effortlessly spins the hammer around in his hand, and frankly, it makes her a little nervous. Annabeth goes through her mental filing cabinet of Greek mythology. Is there a god of super-strength?

“We…can protect you,” Annabeth says carefully, standing up as well.

“If you say so.” The light blue of the blanket contrasts sharply with his dark brown skin.

Percy stands up, and gathers some of his things. “You are gonna love the aquarium in Atlanta. Well…you’re gonna love it now that we got rid of some monsters there.”

“We’re going to an aquarium?” Annabeth melts at the look of excitement on this boy. She just wants to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair.

“We are getting you some clothes, first.” Annabeth smiles and reaches out her hand.

The boy looks at it for a few seconds, and then takes it. It feels cold and clammy, but like she's connected with a kindred spirit. She looks up at Percy, and they smile at each other. There's hope, and a little uncertainty. They don't really know what this means, but it's definitely an adventure they want to see through.

“You never told us your name,” Annabeth says. 

He turns his brown eyes up at her, and gives her the slightest smile. 

“My name is Magnus, and I am a son of Thor.”


End file.
